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Barney Google and Snuffy Smith, 9/13/09

I present to you this Snuffy Smith not because it’s noteworthy (it isn’t) or funny (oh, definitely not) but because it gives me an opportunity to point you in the direction of the puzzlingly detailed Wikipedia article for “Old Time,” which concept our flatland tourister (tourister?) neatly exemplifies. “The archetypical Old Timey costume includes … vertically-striped fabric, straw hats … a vest, and sleeve garters of the type worn in the later half of the 19th century,” says the crowdsourced wisdom of the world’s largest online encyclopedia, and two out of four clearly ain’t bad. The question of why the flatland tourister is dressed all old-timey, when the strip has always at least half-heartedly attempted to pass itself off as taking place in some extremely rustic locale in the present, is perhaps a mystery too profound for Wikipedia to answer.

(And thanks to behind-the-scenes Rifftrax genius Conor Lastowka for pointing me in the direction of this particular bit of Wikiwhimsy.)

Marvin, 9/13/09

Considering the kinds of filth this strip routinely serves up as family entertainment, I’m actually kind of surprised that they’re apparently not allowed to use the word “snot.”

Panel from Mary Worth, 9/13/09

As Detective Hewlett drops his simple frontier bride back off at her rustic farmhouse, let’s take a moment to savor the deliciousness of “Operation H-Town.” I’m going to wager that, contrary to the Chief’s gruff commentary, it will be a party — the kind of party where a certain lovelorn police officer gets killed! Will it be Adrian’s fault, because Scott will be so busy figuring out how to diplomatically tell her that she needs to get a haircut that costs more than $8 for the wedding ceremony that he’ll walk right into an ambush set by crazed smack dealers? Probably!

Panel from Apartment 3-G, 9/13/09

“…and so that’s when I decided that I didn’t love them either! Yes, everyone in the world who had ever or would ever live was now officially my enemy. They’d pay. Oh, they’d pay.”

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Gil Thorp, 9/12/09

Hey, it’s September, which means it’s football season in Gil Thorp again, which means that, after a summer of struggling with his personal demons, Marty Moon is going to make some kind of effort to be a legitimate sports journalist this year, even if it’s only as a minimum-wage stringer for whatever local newspapers and AM radio stations still feel a perverse obligation to use their rapidly diminishing resources to cover high school sports. You can see Marty’s resolve in the fact that he’s decided to actually put on a tie, even though he’s wearing it aggressively loosened, either to project a sort of classy-but-casual air or because he’s physically unable to tighten it, thanks to delirium tremens. Anyway, his very first question of the year has already brought home how completely pointless the kabuki theater of sports reporting is, and he will be passed out drunk in his car in short order.

Mark Trail, 9/12/09

It’s amusing to me that even the terminally dim Rusty is beginning to understand that tangling with dangerous criminals might not ultimately make for fun vacation time; Mark, whose ability to feel fear was conveniently eliminated by some kind of massive head trauma, thinks of only of punchy justice, and not the danger into which he’s placing his young ward. Fortunately, there’s presumably an endless supply of malformed orphans down at the Lost Forest poorhouse who will be perfectly willing to answer to the name “Rusty” if it means a few years of fresh air before they too are used as poacher bait.

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Spider-Man, 9/11/09

Just how spectacularly irritating is Spider-Man? Consider this. Over the past few days, Spidey’s been trying to come up with some vaguely plausible story that would explain why Mary Jane barged in on the sexy three-way he and Wolverine had going with Doc Ock but not reveal the shocking truth: that Spider-Man was some schlubby reporter nobody cared about. Since Spidey is not what you’d call “quick-witted,” or even “posted-speed-limit-witted,” the only thing he could think of was to suggest that MJ had actually burst onto the scene because she was following Wolverine. Wolverine is also not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but you could at least see the gears beginning to turn, which promised some kind of tedious, irritating love triangle, which is the exactly the sort of thing that I bitch about in Spider-Man all the time.

And yet I found myself being actively disappointed in today’s strip, in which our studly mutant sweeps aside all thoughts of any such plot points with a meaty paw and barges his way out of the newspaper Spider-Man strip, presumably forever. This is not because I’m secretly a fan of superpowered romantic intrigue; rather, I’m a fan of the basic constraints of traditional narrative, which, postmodernism be damned, are there for a reason. The only thing worse than unlikeable characters beginning the machinations of an unbearably lame plot are unlikeable characters beginning the machinations of an unbearably lame plot before deciding not to proceed with said plot, because eh, why bother. And yet that very failure in storytelling is newspaper Spider-Man’s major contribution to the world of literature. At least this plotting feint lasted a whole three days; the legendary “intercom fake-out” incident got it done in two.

Luann, 9/11/09

And with that single word, Mrs. DeGroot has provided the most sensible idea anyone has had in the entire 5+ years of the Brad-Toni arc. So can it be over now, please?

SPECIAL JOSH ABUSE OPPORTUNITY! Hey Baltimore-area kids! Would you like to hurl balls at a target and cause me to drop into a large bucket of water? You can, this coming Sunday, September 13, between (UPDATED) 3:30 and 4 pm, at the Abell Avenue Street Fair! The fair is on Abell Avenue (duh) and proceeds from my dunking will benefit our community association. There will be many other fun activities, though obviously my ritual humiliation will be the highlight. (Note that I had originally said I’d be there from 12 to 1, but have just been disabused of that notion.)